


the beauty marks

by HaleHole (SweetFanfics)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash, Stiles' Moles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-26
Updated: 2014-10-26
Packaged: 2018-02-22 17:40:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2516258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetFanfics/pseuds/HaleHole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek blinks at Stiles' finger, at the tiny brown spot, thinking <i>'Oh. That's a mole.'</i> It’s not a place where one would expect to see a mole and Derek’s never met anyone that had a beauty mark on their finger but there it is on Stiles’ finger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the beauty marks

**Author's Note:**

> [This photoset.](http://candypinkcocks.tumblr.com/post/58230779562) Dylan’s right hand index finger. That is all.

Derek looks down at Stiles’ hands, watching him navigate through his phone as he mumbles, “Hold on, I’ve got the scanned page in here…somewhere.”  
  


His distracted gaze takes in the dirty fingernails and wonders how hard Stiles’ fingers had dug into the ground when the gremlin had jumped him. The next thing he notices is the little dot on Stiles’ right hand index finger.  
  


It can’t be dirt because it’s just this one tiny brown spot resting against the edge of a fingernail, no smearing or mud around it or anything. But Stiles  _had_ hit the ground just minutes ago so maybe it  _is_ nothing more than a bit of dirt clinging to his skin.  
  


"Got it!" Stiles declares, turning the bright screen towards Derek. The werewolf forgets about everything except how to get rid of the damned gremlins that seem to have taken over the whole damn forest.  
  


It’s several days later, when he’s sitting in Scott’s room listening to Stiles and Scott debate on the merits of using the former as bait, that Derek sees that brown spot again. “If we want to get rid of them, then we gotta do it!” Stiles argues, jabbing his index finger into the tension ridden air between the best friends.   
  


Derek blinks at Stiles' finger, at the tiny brown spot, thinking  _'Oh. That's a mole.'_  It’s not a place where one would expect to see a mole and Derek’s never met anyone that had a beauty mark on their finger but there it is on Stiles’ finger. A small,  _distracting_  little mark that stands alone on Stiles’ finger, just this side of his nail. Wait.  _Is it_ the only beauty mark on Stiles' hand? He stares hard at ranting teenagers hands, frowning harder and harder when Stiles keeps gesturing wildly and wringing his hands together, making it extremely difficult for Derek to learn if there’s only that one mole on Stiles’ right hand.

 

Surely it can’t be the only one there. Just look at Stiles’ face! The smattering of moles on the side of his face are pretty and distracting, a lovely constellation Derek often finds himself idly tracing with his eyes. He’s confident that there’s several new marks in the grouping but Derek enjoys not knowing the exact number of moles. The mystery adds something to the whole thing.   
  


His point is that Stiles’ moles seem to come in groups rather than singulars. The evidence is on his skin - his cheeks and jawline on either side of his face, the small group on Stiles’ forehead, the line of beauty marks going down the teenagers neck, a 1,2,3 on his left arm.   
  


So you see, that single mole on Stiles’ fingertip is an irregularity that’s caught Derek’s interest. His hands twitch his crossed arms, wanting to take hold of Stiles’ hands and examine them thoroughly with curious eyes, gentle fingers and tender lips.   
  


"What do you think?" Derek blinks and realizes that the teenagers are looking at him with near identical expressions of ‘You’d better agree with me or else.’  
  


It’s because those faces and not the fact that he didn’t hear the question that Derek shakes his head and firmly states, “I’m not being dragged into his argument.” He’s got better things to do. Like day dream about a 17 year old teenager’s beauty marks.  
  


Derek kind of wants to bury his head in his hands and groan in agony because  _when_ had this happened? And how did he not notice Stiles’ creeping, crawling, making a way for himself in Derek’s heart? It’s too late for Derek to do anything except wait and hope. And no matter  _what_ his brain tells him, he’s  _not_ pining from afar, shut up.  
  


"Chicken." Stiles grumps, frowning so hard that Derek wonders if the edge of his lips will wind up touching the mole nearby. For that, Derek glares at the teenager.

 


End file.
